New Breed
by W J Harrison
Summary: When Altair chases down a suspicious man at the scene of an assassination, he uncovers a secret that could change the Holy Land forever. Finally, Chapter 4 is here. Sorry for the long wait, I've had a lot to do recently. Enjoy and please review!
1. Chapter 1

New Breed

1

To Altair, the target was nothing more than dirt that had to be cleaned up. The streets of Jerusalem were lined with people but Altair could have spotted the man from a mile off. The man was standing on a street corner as if waiting. He looked impatient. What the man was waiting for was a mystery to Altair. All he had been told that the man was a scientist. Why this meant he had to be killed was anyone's guess. Altair was just doing as he had been told. No more questions needed to be asked or answered.

On the street below, the man looked around, desperately.

"Where is that damn Templar?" he thought. He was getting more and more concerned by the minute. He felt in his pocket to make sure that the vial was still there. Suddenly there was a flash of white as an assassin jumped from a rooftop across the street. The man tried to make a noise or dodge out of the way, but nothing happened. The assassin's hidden blade pierced through the bridge of his nose, cracked his skull and skewered his brain. There was nothing.

Altair, breathing heavily, withdrew his blade, brains, blood and all, and stood up, ready to run. Before he could make a move, he saw movement at his feet. Before he could look, it had gone. He glanced left to see a figure, dressed similarly to him, pelting down the street, knocking people down as he went. Altair did not hesitate. He gave chase.

Altair looked behind him to see that people had now started to crowd round the dead body of the scientist. That didn't matter. Altair went back to looking straight ahead. He was catching up to the mysterious man. He was ploughing down the street, almost making it easy for Altair, as if he was creating an opening where people once stood. He saw the man dart up the side of a building straight ahead.

"No problem," thought Altair.

He did the same, just in time to grab the man's heel as he reached the top of the building. The man collapsed at the top and his chin whacked the flat roof. Altair leaped the last metre or so of wall and landed, feet first, on the man's back. He punched the man in the back of the head and yelled,

"Talk!"


	2. Chapter 2

2

Altair stood up and kicked the figure, who was still face down, in the ribs, hard…very hard. There was a slight grimace from him, and then the laughter came. Altair crouched down and through gritted teeth said,

"Why are you laughing?"

With that, he turned the man over. As Altair had first thought, the man was wearing an assassin's uniform. He now noticed one major difference. Smeared in red paint, as if by hand, on the front of the man's crisp white tunic where his weapons belt ought to have been, was the cross of the Templars.

The man continued laughing. Altair brought his wrist down on the Templar's nose. Blood oozed from it. The man continued his haunting cackle.

"What the hell is going on," thought Altair, "A Templar assassin?"

He hit the Templar in the nose again for good measure,

"What are the Templars doing and who the hell are you?"

Altair had foolishly stood up and left the Templar lying there. It was then that the Templar took his chance. He pushed off from the ground by putting his hands behind his back. His legs flew into the air and towards Altair. The leather boots hit him square in the jaw. He flew backwards and landed on his back with his head and shoulders dangling over the edge of the rooftop.

Altair saw the Templar assassin leap forward, his hidden blades poking out from his sleeves. He landed, knees first, on Altair's chest. Altair gasped for breath,

"Go back to Masyaf," the Templar whispered to Altair, "and tell Al Mualim that Abdul-Hakeem says, 'Hello',"

As the Templar was saying these words, Altair, still gasping for breath, looked at the Templar's belt. There was a small glass vial attached to it. Altair could see a green liquid inside it, bubbling away. Altair, despite his lack of oxygen, managed to reach the vial and quietly unhook it from the belt and clutch it in his fist.

The Templar now had his blade to Altair's cheek,

"I will make sure that your death is a slow and painful one,"

The Templar made a small cut on Altair's right cheek,

"Soon enough. Soon enough, Altair, you will die. But not today."

With that, he leapt over Altair and onto another roof. When Altair finally managed to get up, he was gone.

Altair had three questions that needed answering. Just who was Abdul-Hakeem? What was in the vial that he now clutched in his hand? And what did Al Mualim have to do with all this?

Altair unclenched his fist and looked at the vial. Somehow he knew that answers would come soon and the best place to start was Masyaf.


	3. Chapter 3

3

3

Altair slammed his fist down on the oak table. Al Mualim looked up at Altair. He seemed surprisingly calm. He usually didn't stand for aggression towards him,

"Who the hell is Abdul-Makeem?"

Al Mualim looked puzzled. Altair paced up and down and recalled to him what had happened on the rooftop. Al Mualim sat, staring at Altair as he spoke. He did not interrupt. He just sat there listening intently. When Altair had finished speaking, he stood up. He walked round the back of his chair, put his arms behind his back and looked out of the window onto small streets of Masyaf. The people below seemed so safe, so at peace, so…normal. And yet, now that Altair had told him about Abdul-Makeem, he knew that it wouldn't last much longer. His old eyes had seen so many things, so many terrible things. He had a funny feeling that, now, the worst was yet to come,

"The last time I saw Abdul-Makeem," sighed Al Mualim (he had not turned round), "was 10 years ago, before you joined our ranks. He was an assassin like you. The day he left was the day the Templars initiated their most brutal attack on our city. He, and 4 other assassins, betrayed us. Abdul-Makeem said that they were leaving because there was better life waiting for them. Maybe this serum you have brought to me has something to do with it."

Altair knew what he had to do. Investigation was, after all, his forte. He had spent many days of his life, spying, interrogating, threatening and using any means necessary to get the information he needed. Today would be no different.

Five Years Earlier

"We are leaving, old man!" called Abdul-Makeem from the bridge, "there is a better life waiting for us." He and four other men in assassin's uniform stood before a vast army of Templars. Men, horses and catapults filled the city below. It was a vast sea of red and white and silver.

Al Mualim and the archers who supported him could only watch from the top of the assassin's HQ as Makeem gave the signal. The Templars fired their catapults. Spheres of flame came hurtling towards the tower. Al Mualim looked on in horror. He felt himself being dragged downwards toward the stone floor, seconds before a ball of fire struck the top of the tower. Al Mualim coughed and spluttered. The dust from the shattered rock was filling his lungs. There was a sharp, high-pitched ringing in his ears. He had landed flat on his stomach. He looked left and right. All of the archers who had been stood with him lay sprawled across the debris. Only one remained alive. He ran towards Al Mualim and hoisted him up. Al Mualim rested his arm on the brave man's shoulder. He was dazed and confused. He began to weep as the archer dragged him towards the huge wooden leading to the winding staircase, their ticket out of hell.

"Sir!" came the muffled voice of the archer, "I need you to try and put as little weight on me as you can! We need to get inside, fast!"

His hearing slowly began to fade back into existence. He could now hear the screams of agony below as sword clashed with shield and flesh and bone. Who was winning, he could not tell. He couldn't concentrate on that now, he had to focus on moving his legs. He slowly placed one foot in front of the other and began to shuffle toward the entrance. It would have been hard enough on a smooth surface, but on one that had partly been blown to bits and was probably unstable it was horrific. Every small step felt like a step closer to oblivion. With each step he expected to hear a crack and feel the floor break from beneath him and see the ground beneath rushing up to greet him. It did not happen. They made it through the door, which the archer slammed shut behind him.

"Let's get you to safety, Sir," said the archer, breathing heavily.

The walk down the stair was a lot easier than the one across the bridge. Al Mualim's legs began to move more freely. His steps became longer and more confident, until, half way down the stone steps, he was walking as normal (apart from a slight hobble). He came down into the main entrance hall. The huge door was barricaded, and about 50 young assassins stood, shaking, ready to fight when those doors finally took a beating. However, the door was not broken down. No Templars came to finish off the assassins. Outside the assassins had claimed victory, just. Many dead assassins, some as young as 15, were dotted around the field. The assassins had lost many of their kind, but the Templars had lost more. The battle ended six hours after it had begun. The Templars had been driven away, along with their five newest recruits.


	4. Chapter 4

4

4

Jerusalem

Altair's foot hit the floor. As a small cloud of yellowish dust formed from the impact, a nearby old woman fell in shock and collided with a nearby beggar who began staggering after the woman in vain.

"Not exactly the most subtle thing you've ever done," thought Altair, angry with himself. At least he wasn't where he needed to be just yet. If he had, his whole plan would have been ruined.

Altair rose from his crouching stance and sped forward again. He leapt up and grabbed the ledge of the nearest low rooftop. He hoisted himself up. Even now, after all these of years of running, leaping, grabbing, ducking and falling, he still felt his muscles burning up inside him, destroying themselves ready to rebuilt stronger and better than ever before.

He continued running straight and with one giant leap, cleared a fifteen metre gap between two buildings. He landed, his heels just off the edge of the roof. He flapped his arms and used the air around him to steady himself and continue his journey. He could see, just a bit further ahead, the small side alleyway where he planned to lie in wait, ready to drag his man into the shadows with him.

When he was within jumping distance of the side street he leapt, high and far and landed right in the near corner of the darkened alleyway. Now, Altair would play his favourite game: The Waiting Game.

The man that Altair was lying in wait for was a man known only as X. He kept his real name secret. The kind of information he had locked up inside his head could have easily been the death of him. He knew everything there was to know about the Templars and their dealings and it was this that Altair wanted him for. In a way, X was a sort of unofficial source of Templar information for the Assassins, except he wasn't paid, just allowed to live.

After a few minutes, Altair risked a glance round the corner. He saw, blended into the crowd, the worried face of X. He looked as if he was being chased, or followed at least. He was walking at a reasonable pace, gently pushing people out of his way. His straggly, black hair was bobbing up and down and on his greying beard, beads of sweat had formed. Altair needed to time his grab just right. He glanced at X again and figured out how long he should wait to reach out to grab him. Altair curved round again, his back to the wall. He had his arm at his side, ready to make a lucky grab. He took a deep breath in, and exhaled again. NOW!

X felt a tug at his tunic as he was yanked into a dark alleyway. An assassin In the traditional white robes stood before him. He felt a sense of relief wash over him,

"Thank God!" he cried, "They're after me…The Templars. They want my head! They caught me selling informa-"

It was at this point that the assassin's hand was on his mouth and the fear returned.

"Shut…up!" came the stern words of the assassin, "I need some information. Unless you want to die I suggest you keep quiet for a minute. Templars are coming.

Slowly, X moved his eyes towards the main street to the side of him. Sure enough, a group of three Templars looked around, searching for X. The leader ordered the others to press on and look for X.

"I will wait here in case he tries to double back. Go!"

The Templar commander now had his back to the side street,

"Perfect," thought Altair.

He took his hand from X's mouth, silently let out his hidden blade on his right hand and stepped forward. He took one final lunge forward, put his hand on the Templars mouth, dragged him back and cut his throat. As the blood spilled down, Altair pushed the Templar forward and out of the alleyway. The Templar began to stumble around the packed street, clutching his throat, gagging for breath. He fell to his knees and then flat on his face. There was a scream and Altair knew it was time to go. He grabbed hold of X's hand and ran.


End file.
